


Divergence

by Keibey



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keibey/pseuds/Keibey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time doesn’t always flow in one single direction -  it branches into different paths, different possibilities. (pre!Inaho/Slaine if you squint)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divergence

“Inaho!”

The voice drew his attention like a sheepdog’s to the whistle. The Princess was opening the hatch of the orange Kataphrakt, and the surge of relief that crashed over Slaine at seeing her alive and well rooted him to the spot, tears welling up. Her name slipped past his lips as he watched her talk with the other boy inside, and then she reached into the cockpit, taking hold of Orange’s hand.

“I’m right here, Inaho.”

Something about the sight made him look away, but he didn’t have time to examine the feeling in his chest. Slaine took in the deep maroon of that coat, the silver glint of the handgun, and he was sprinting before he had even realized it, absolute horror tearing the name from his throat. “Princess Asseylum!”

The bullet burned as it buried itself into his right shoulder, and the sudden pain caused him to stumble into the Princess far harder than he had intended to. Apologizing through gritted teeth, he forwent courtesy and caught her wrist, pulling her to take cover on the other side of the Kataphrakt’s shoulder as the second shot ricocheted off the scratched orange paint.

“Slaine!” her tone was surprised, but the warmth imbued in her voice was unmistakable. “I’m glad to see you safe.”

“Your Highness, are you hurt?” She didn’t have a chance to answer, more shots skittering off metal or burrowing into concrete around them, and instinctively he put a hand on the back of her head as they both ducked. The ringing in Slaine’s ears almost made him miss the distinct click of an emptied gun, but whatever relief he felt from that quickly drained to dread at the sound of the spent magazine hitting the floor. The Count wasn’t going to stop until the Princess was dead.

Scrabbling for the gun he had dropped, Slaine found his grip was weak, every movement magnifying the pain in his shoulder; he couldn’t hold it properly, let alone aim. Asking the Princess to shoot someone was out of the question.

There was rustling above him in the deafening silence, and he tilted his head up to squint at the cockpit. He couldn’t see from his angle, and to pitch his voice to carry would only alert the Count. Glancing at Asseylum more out of an attempt to remain calm than anything, his eyes caught on the wire snaking up to her ear.

“The communicator,” he said, struck with an idea, “May I borrow it, Your Highness?”

For a second Asseylum looked confused at the sudden request, but then she nodded in acknowledgement, taking the device off. “Of course,” she gave him an encouraging smile as she pressed it into his hands.

It was nothing like the communicators used by the Vers military, being both bulky and unwieldy, but he snapped it around his neck and fitted the bud in his ear. He could only pray that it was already on the right frequency. “Orange,” he hissed, heart thumping so loudly in his ears; surely the Count would hear them.

Silence over the line, but then a calm voice answered him, “Bat.” Slaine sighed in relief, glad for the small stroke of luck. “What’s the situation?”

“Count Saazbaum came in after us,” he explained hurriedly, “He’s trying to kill the princess.”

“Is she safe for now?”

“Yes. We are behind the arm of your Kataphrakt.”

“Are you armed?”

He hadn’t noticed how the steady questions had been calming him until his fingers twitched around his gun at that inquiry. “I have a handgun.”

“Good. I will distract him, while you sho-”

“I can’t,” Slaine said quietly, keeping his gaze on the orange paint to avoid accidentally catching the Princess’s eye.

A pause, then there was the low groan of metal grinding against metal overhead, and a grunt through his earpiece. Slaine could only hear soft, rhythmic pants in his ear. “Orange?” He didn’t like how his voice came out so quiet and small.

“That’s not a problem.” It was as flat as ever, but Slaine didn’t miss the underlying pain; he was too familiar with concealing it, “If your Kat is twelve o’clock, what is his position?”

“Five, against the wall,” he replied, “There is a large pipe beside him.”

“Move away from Seylum and run for nine o’clock. I need four seconds.”

“I understand,” Slaine replied, and then turned to the princess with the most reassuring look he could muster. “Please stay here, Princess.”

Asseylum nodded, the sad curve of her lips telling him she had already anticipated it, and then unexpectedly she looped the familiar necklace over his head. “Stay safe, Slaine.” Her fingers felt warm against his skin when she tucked the pendant into the collar of the uniform.

His word of thanks was cut off as Orange spoke to him again. “We have one shot, Bat.”

“I know that,” he bit back, “I’m ready.”

“Focus,” the voice in his ear was firm, but without the reproach that he was so used to hearing, and as he listened to the calm, measured countdown from three, he found the jitteriness in his body stilling into concentration, “- zero.”

Slaine stood and sprinted for a hunk of concrete that had once been part of a wall, and the Count’s reaction was immediate. The bullets whizzed closer with every shot, the retorts echoing off the wall in a cacophony, but he kept his eyes riveted on his goal. _One second, two seconds, three-_

The burn in his left thigh was almost expected. He launched himself off his right leg to close the last few metres, awkwardly rolling to his feet behind the concrete. Habit had his gun up and ready, useless as it was with his right arm hanging limply at his side. There were two more shots from a gun with a different tenor, and then nothing. The quiet only made his rushing pulse seem louder in his ear.

“Bat,” Orange cut through the hammering of his heartbeat easily, “confirm the kill. I will cover you.”

“It’s Slaine,” he said as he pulled himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, “Please stop using that weird nickname.” The other boy didn’t reply, but it wasn’t like Slaine was up for conversation anyway as he limped across the large room. Every time he jarred his left leg, it sent up a pang of pain that he knew would only be a taste of what was to come once the adrenaline faded.

It seemed to have taken forever, but Slaine stood over the Count’s body, slumped against the wall. The maroon uniform hid the deep patches of blood on the man’s torso well. Steeling himself, he reached out to feel for a pulse or breath. “He’s gone,” he reported quietly.

“Recover his gun, just in case. We’ll regroup by my Kat.”

Slaine nodded, forgetting that the other boy might not see it, but when he turned to look, Orange was already pulling himself out of the cockpit. He holstered his own handgun and picked up the Count’s, slowly making his way back to the large orange Kataphrakt.

Asseylum emerged from behind the machine’s shoulder, and even from so far away her concern for Orange was plain to see. It looked like the other boy declined her help, supporting himself against his Kataphrakt while craning his neck to rake a calculating gaze over his fallen machine. As Slaine approached, the Princess turned to him. “Slaine, your leg,” she said in worried tone, moving to put a steadying hand on his good arm and nearly making him colour in shame.

Orange’s brown eye turned to him with the same considering look, the sharp attention making Slaine uncomfortable. “Your shoulder needs a sling,” the other boy commented, “and your leg needs to be bandaged.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he watched Orange sit down on the lip of the cockpit, undoing the straps of his uniform. It was too much like that time with Hellas, now that their mutual enemy was gone.

“Do you have an undershirt?”

“Ah, yes,” the nonsequitur startled him, just as incomprehensible as why the other boy was peeling off his pilot suit to the waist, “but why…?”

“Your jacket is too heavy for bandages,” Orange’s voice was muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head, “and it would leave you exposed to the elements.”

“Is there anything I can do?” the Princess asked, apparently satisfied that Slaine could stand on his own. If she thought anything of Orange’s actions, it didn’t show past the concern on her face.

“If you could cut this into a continuous strip,” the other boy instructed, miming with his free hand the cuts necessary as he slipped on the top part of his suit again, “There is a knife on the side of your right boot.” Asseylum nodded, taking the garment in her hands and finding a place to set it down. The furrow of concentration between her brows was the same one she wore pondering over a particularly tricky passage-

“Slaine.”

He automatically whipped his head around at the sound of the voice, the conditioned response of acknowledgement on his lips without actually processing the word. Orange sat there, watching him expectantly.

Slaine hesitated, but eventually he unbuttoned his uniform and carefully shrugged it off, obediently taking a seat. Instead of working on the shirt, though, Orange reached for his neck, fingers warm against his pulse. “Wha-”

“Be quiet a moment.” The brown eye bore into his own, and self-consciously Slaine held still. After a long moment, the hand withdrew. “Steady pause, normal breathing, warm on contact. You’re just on adrenaline.” Orange pulled a survival knife from his boot in a practiced motion and turned his attention to Slaine’s leg. The blade might as well have been a surgical knife in his hands as the other boy patiently cut the fabric around the wound. “Like I thought, a soft tissue injury.” With mindful fingers, Orange checked around the other side, the touch making Slaine want to shift uncomfortably. “No damage to the artery, no exit wound.”

The brown eye flitted over to where the Princess was still busy working, and without a word Orange moved on, nudging Slaine’s arm out of the way with surprising gentleness. “Hold here.”

“Shouldn’t you have a survival pack?” Slaine asked before he had really thought about it, holding onto the hem of his shirt as the knife sawed through it.

“I could ask the same.”

“The Orbital Knights’ Kataphrakts aren’t supplied with one.” His tone might have came out more defensive than he had intended, but if the other boy noticed, it didn’t show.

“It’s pinned,” Orange replied simply before putting the knife between his teeth, tearing the fabric the rest of the way.

Pinned? Weren’t they generally strapped under the pilot chair– “Are your legs alright?” Slaine’s gaze involuntarily flitted down. Now that he was looking for it, Orange’s left foot sat at an uncomfortable angle.

“I had to dislocate it,” was all the other boy volunteered, calmly moving onto the shoulder of the shirt. Slaine could only stare. “There’s nothing that can be done about it right now.” Orange rolled the fabric back so slowly away from the wound in his shoulder, he barely felt the dried blood pulling at his skin. “It just missed bone, no exit.”

Leaning back, the other boy rubbed at his bloodied left eye, the slightest of a frown pulling at his brows.

“Please, let me.” Slaine reached out without thinking, smoothing the dried blood away from the lashes. It was something he had done so many times in the mirror that he nearly snatched his hand back when he realized what he was doing. Orange merely blinked, probably re-adjusting to having use of both eyes again.

“Inaho,” the Princess came up with a bundle of cloth before the other boy could say anything in response.

“Thanks.” Orange was nothing if not efficient, quickly cutting off an end to make a wad and putting it over the injury in Slaine’s leg. “Seylum, apply pressure here.”

“Of course.” Asseylum’s small hands were firm, and her smile sympathetic. “I’m sorry our reunion couldn’t have found you in better health, Slaine.”

“I’m just so very glad you’re safe, Princess.” It was embarrassing how he was tearing up again, especially knowing that there was no way Orange could miss it from where the other boy was expertly bandaging up his shoulder. Asseluym reached up and pat him gently on the head; he missed the simple gesture too much to care what Orange thought of it.

“That’s the Tharsis, isn’t it?” she looked up at the looming Kataphrakt, “Where is Count Cruhteo?”

“He is dead, Your Highness,” he replied, hating that it was him who made her smile fade, “Count Saazbaum killed him.”

“I see,” she said quietly, “So he is dead also. The power vacuum is larger than I would have thought.”

“It will work to our advantage,” Orange spoke in the same flat tone he used for everything else, and tying off the dressing, he grabbed Slaine’s uniform after rearranging the cut shirt to one side. “Put on your jacket, Bat.” Glaring at the way the other boy had just brushed the Princess’ feelings aside, Slaine would have protested, but Asseylum only shook her head.

“Inaho is correct, it will work in our favour.” The composure with which she spoke reminded him of how much stronger the Princess was compared to him. Chastised, he slipped on his uniform, automatically buttoning it up. “If the Count is dead, why would the Tharsis still run?”

“I don’t know.” It was technically not a lie. Asseylum accepted his answer at face value, always willing to trust, but Slaine had no doubts that Orange had caught him. The other boy just slipped Slaine’s arm into the makeshift sling without comment, securing it with the uniform belt before moving onto bandaging the leg wound.

“As long as it moves, we can use it. Medical support should be our top priority - the Deucalion is the closest friendly territory.” It was too easy to simply let the boy with the calm, collected demeanour take charge. “What are your Kat’s abilities?”

“Speed and agility,” he answered, watching the other boy check the circulation under the dressing, “The Tharsis specializes in melee combat.”

“We can escape enemy fire with that.” The other boy touched his finger to his com. “Yuki, do you copy?”

Slaine started at the faint laugh that crackled through the earpiece he had forgotten he was still wearing. “Still only remembering your teammates when you need them, Nao?”

“I need you to go ahead and tell them I will be approaching in a white Martian Kat. The coms’ range is shortened by the walls here.”

“Again with the reckless-” A sigh. “Be careful, at least?”

“You too.” The slightest softening of the brown eyes, and then Orange turned back to them. “I will meet you at the Tharsis. Seylum, I leave Bat to you.” With that, the pilot stood up on his good leg, shuffling a few steps to the side by supporting himself with his hands. Before either Asseylum or Slaine could ask Orange what he had planned, the other boy jumped and caught the edge of the armour plate, hoisting himself up onto the chest of his Kataphrakt. Slaine could only watch as Orange’s legs disappear from his view.

“We should also go.” The Princess’ voice drew him back to the problem at hand, and he nodded, standing. Asseylum’s steadying hand eased the climb up the platform and back the way he had came down initially, and this time he was almost unsurprised to find that Orange had beat them to the cockpit.

Slaine swung down into the pilot chair with minimal fuss, keeping the jarring of his leg as little as possible, but he had barely settled into the seat before he heard Orange’s quiet, “Catch me, Bat.” Looking up, he was completely unprepared to see the other boy dangling by his hands, and it was mostly reflex to reach out with his good arm as Orange let go.

The dome started up in a kaleidoscope around them just as Orange landed in his lap, by some miracle missing Slaine’s leg wound in the process. Nonchalantly, the other boy hobbled off of him, still wearing the same neutral expression. Slaine felt his face inexplicably heat up, but he bit back the words as Asseylum climbed in as well, focusing instead on righting the Kataphrakt once the cockpit slid close. Three monitors flared to life, all notifying him on the chaos just outside the room.

“It may be difficult without my right arm,” he said apologetically.

“That’s not a problem.” Orange perched on the right side of the seat and set his right hand on the controls. The closeness made Slaine shift nervously. “I will follow your lead.”

“Alright,” Slaine replied at last, turning the Tharsis around. “Please don’t trip us up.”

“That’s something I should be saying to you. I remember your piloting skills were unpredictable,” the other boy deadpanned. They rounded the corner, and the enemy warning system prompted him with a radar image of angry red dots just as shots started flying towards them. “Here they come, Bat!”

Stepping onto the foot pedals, Slaine pushed the Kataphrakt forward, feeling the right side of the machine following seamlessly. The movement made the other boy slide closer to him. “Please keep quiet, Orange!”

They could do this. He might not have the power to keep the Princess safe on his own, but together, Slaine knew they could do this.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for misurabu from tumblr. This is a fix-it fic because screw that season finale, man. I've basically spent 3-4 hours looking for places to shoot my favourite character and I'm not sure what that says about me.


End file.
